


Some Things Just Don't Change

by medusa20



Category: The Big Bang Theory
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-26
Updated: 2012-06-26
Packaged: 2017-11-08 13:59:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medusa20/pseuds/medusa20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another remix though unoffical . This is based on ishie's "A Warm Gulf Wind"- a truly incredible fic. The prompt:Sheldon is going peacefully on with his usual routine while Penny is going through events in the original story. But lots of details shows he misses her more than he admits</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Things Just Don't Change

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Warm Gulf Wind](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/9477) by Ishie. 



> I was too much of a coward to participate officially in the remix challenge but I had to give this a try.

Ultimately, it is the house that heals him or, at least, allows him to scar. On his first day in his new home, once the movers had placed the little furniture he had precisely on the tape marks he had laid on the wood floor, Sheldon locks the door then leans with his back against it. He looks into his living room where his new dark blue couch resides. He stares at it for a full three minutes but no image of Penny sitting on the middle cushion appears.

He walks from the living room into the small hallway that led to the kitchen to his left or the den to his right. Sheldon heads for the kitchen. Again, he watches and he waits. No ghostly strains of Shania Twain whisper in his ears; no smell of unscheduled French toast fills his nose; no image of dancing Penny appears before his eyes. He opens the refrigerator and takes out a bottle of water. When he turns back, the kitchen is still filled with boxes and his Batman cookie jar. Relief flows through him. He feels almost like he did back in 2005 right before he and Leonard had reached their landing and spotted their new neighbor.

Sheldon caps the bottle and walks toward the den (which will soon become his office). He sits on a large box labeled "Games". He misses his ghosts already.

X

It is not often that Sheldon can't sleep. He manages his day to such fine detail that he is significantly tired by bedtime. Moreover, even if he is not tired, he wills himself to go to sleep. Kolinar comes in handy on many occasions. Tonight, despite his best tricks (warm milk, visualization, counting bosons and fermions), he is staring at the ceiling above his bed.

"Drat!" He sighs and gets up. He makes a fruitless trip to the bathroom then returns to bed. He sits on the edge of the bed, taking a notebook out of the nightstand drawer. It had been some time since he had done any journaling. He holds the notebook on his lap. His pen is in the nightstand drawer but Sheldon is reluctant to pick it up. He's had so many nights of quiet, when his mind did not succumb to an endless cyclone of thoughts- thus the need to journal; he is reluctant to start that compulsion again. Living here, buying this house- these were steps away from the man he used to be.

He flips the notebook to the back cover. He wonders about the words written on the back cover of another notebook. He won't let himself wonder about her.

X

He arrived in Galveston, slick with sweat and so bone-tired he couldn't even greet his mother properly.

"Oh, Lambchop." Mary opened her arms to him but Sheldon walked right past her. He dropped his bags on the floor of his childhood room and went straight into the shower. After nearly scalding the skin off himself, he climbed into his bed and didn't move for three days.

Mary is humming "Oh Happy Day" as she unpacks the contents of his kitchen boxes. Sheldon is setting up his computer in his home office and trying desperately not to snarl at her. Finally, he loses the battle.

"Mom!" he snaps from under the computer table.

"Yes, Shelly?" There is a lilt to Mary's voice he hasn't heard in some time. He recalls how she welcomed him back, didn't ask questions ( _still_ didn't ask questions), cooked all his favorite meals and now is here helping him set up house.

Sheldon clears his throat before replying, "Thank you for helping me today."

In the kitchen, Mary smiles and wipes some dust off the Batman cookie jar.

X

He almost learns to drive. The red Honda is parked outside the convenience store where he stopped to buy Red Vines and Sheldon nearly swallows one whole at the sight of it.

His head swivels back and forth looking for the owner of the dusty car. A second glance reveals that this car is still in full possession of its passenger side mirror. Sheldon wanders over to the car. The inside is littered with receipts, old fast food containers and a bright orange plastic lei hangs from the mirror. The resemblance is really uncanny.

Sheldon taps his foot. For the first time in his life, he wonders what his car would be like. His car? More like a car that he owned but even that feels strange to think. Oh he knows it would be showroom ready at all times but what about make, model, _color_?

The afternoon sun is glinting off the mirror, blinding his vision. He does still have a leaner's permit; he did log hours on a simulator and did manage to drive to and from a hospital. He could have another route to freedom. Sheldon cocks his head and pictures himself driving down the high way. Both hands on the wheel in a loose hold- the mark of a confident driver.

He calls Missy and arranges a few lessons. But Missy doesn't drive a red Honda, she doesn't have a little vanilla scented air freshener plugged into her passenger side air vent and her check engine light is most definitely off.

How can he learn to drive when all the fun is being taken out of it?

X

Truth be told, it is Missy who starts his latest obsession. She walks into his house from the kitchen door, shouting for him as if she were in a hog-calling contest.

"Shell- EEE! I got somethin' for ya"

"Really, Missy," he sighs from the depths of his office. "You've 'gut something for me'? That sounds like you've brought me a freshly–dressed possum to stew."

"Maybe tomorrow." Missy drawls then tosses a thick magazine onto his computer table. Sheldon yelps and thrusts his rolling chair back; childhood memories of snakes and large spiders being tossed onto whatever he happened to be studying flood his brain.

This is much worse.

"What makes you think I would want such a periodical?" Sheldon hasn't rolled any closer, merely cranes his neck to see.

Missy gives Sheldon his look of haughty derision though she has a less polite name for it.

"Are you going to read it? There is a full four pages devoted to her and half a dozen pictures." Missy raises an eyebrow at her twin.

Sheldon snorts, "Missy, I have far more important texts to read. I recently acquired _Phys_ _ics of the Impossible: A Scientific Exploration into the World of Phasers, Force Fields, Teleportation, and Time Travel_ by Michio Kaku and I am eager to begin its perusal as soon as we return home from dinner.

"Suit yourself." Missy shrugs but leaves the magazine on the desk. "I'll meet you at the car."

Sheldon falls asleep with the magazine open on his chest.

X

His mother chides him about not taking full advantage of the island. Like most Baptists, Mary Cooper is firmly entrenched in the restorative powers of water. She points out that, as a child, he spent hours playing in the water; Sheldon counters he never "played"- he was conducting scientific observations of the pattern of ocean waves even at the tender age of six.

"Horse manure." Mary mutters and swats Sheldon's hand away as he tries to snag the cinnamon rolls she just released from the pans.

Sheldon smirks and Mary notices with pleasure that his cheeks are rounding out more and his wrists no longer look as if they are going to snap at any minute. Now, if only that hollow look would vanish from his eyes, she'd sleep easier.

"Will it make you happy if I go to the seaside on my next free afternoon? You can come with me if you like."

Mary whips powdered sugar together with milk to create the icing for the cinnamon buns. She spoons a generous portion on top of a warm roll before handing it to her brilliant son.

"Well, it wouldn't make me unhappy." She smiles.

Three days later, Sheldon leaves her seated in a beach chair under an umbrella while he ambles to the shoreline.

The Gulf water strokes his feet as Sheldon walks in up to his ankles. He is surrounded by green water. He reaches down to dip his fingers in the fluctuating surf; instead, he lets his fingers hover just on the surface of the water, feeling the warmth and the pulse of life inherent in ocean water. He scoops up a handful of water in a childish attempt to capture the green in the palm of his hands. Predictably, the water trickles through his fingers and becomes lost in the tide. Sheldon looks over his shoulder and Mary waves enthusiastically from her Harlequin romance hidden behind a Bible tract.

An overeager wave slaps at his knees and Sheldon smiles at the water's playfulness.

The breeze is straight off the water and snaps the fabric of his t-shirt straight back. It is a headwind and has been for a long time.

X

He has a brief period of time when he doesn't think of her at all. Of course, that is not entirely true. It's not so much that he doesn't think of her, more like he doesn't have to _think_ about thinking of her.

Penny is everywhere around him. Literally. Her star has finally risen and he can't so much as buy a Mountain Dew without seeing her face on some magazine. Not even TV Guide is safe.

It is comforting in an abstract way. He never grew accustomed to the space left by leaving all he knew in California. He filled it by owning property, researching night and day and spending more time with his mother and sister (a practice he enjoys more than he cares to admit. There is something reassuring in the way they fuss and cluck at him. Something familiar). But, when he is alone- not working or playing video games or teaching himself exactly how to unclog a drain( sadly, one really has to stick a bare hand down there to get the lay of the land)- he misses her with a palpable sadness.

He longs for many things. The Nobel that still eludes him. And Penny.

X

Sir Isaac Newton in his Scholium about absolute Time and Space wrote absolute, true, and mathematical time, of itself, and from its own nature flows equably without regard to anything external.

The thought comes to him unbidden as Sheldon looks at the Vogue magazine he is cataloguing in his room. With dull surprise, he registers the years that have passed. Penny's career has had more ups than downs though the same cannot be said for her personal life.

He, too, has seen changes over the years. He works, teaches on occasion at a small university, thoroughly enjoying the luxury of being the big fish in such a tiny academic pond. His life is more his own now than ever before. He spends more time reading and less time engrossed in DVDs that he watched endlessly before. Sheldon finds that talking on the phone is more an annoyance than anything else so Mary is more likely to get a visit from him rather than a phone call.

When she asked him about it- his multiple visits in one week- Sheldon had no answer. His jaw twitched and jumped for almost thirty seconds until Mary patted his cheek and said, "That's okay, baby. I like seeing you, too."

The answer comes later while he stares at his ceiling in preparation for REM sleep. He doesn't want distance anymore between himself and those he cares about. Even Missy barely calls him, preferring to show up unannounced.

Or, perhaps, illogical as it may seem (since he has call-waiting) he just doesn't want anything to prevent the one call he's been waiting a decade for from getting through.

X

Sheldon is restless this Sunday. Normally, he has breakfast, reads the newspaper then sits down for a good two to three hours of academic writing. Today, he has been staring at a blank document for the better part of twenty minutes. He rises from his computer chair and enters the living room. He switches on the TV, preparing to play one of his video games but clicks the set off the instant the screen comes on. Sighing, Sheldon walks over to his window. His street is quiet; he actually lives on a corner lot which enables him to take in the views of both streets. The neighborhood is usually a ghost town on Sunday which is why he writes on this day but today _feels_ different.

He considers going out. His mother would pick him up if he called or even his sister but even that seems unpalatable. While he doesn't want to be here, he also feels that it is very important he stay home. Finally, he decides on a cup of tea- it will occupy his hands as well as calm him down.

His kitchen is in perfect order- cereals arranged by fiber content, canned goods alphabetized, Batman jar filled with oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. Sheldon takes down his favorite mug and sets a pot of water to boil. He has an odd sense of déjà –vu. He shakes his head- he's made countless cups of tea, why should this one be any different? He stares out the kitchen window as the water begins to bubble at the edges.

_I am tired of my routine._

He snorts at the ridiculousness of the thought even as he has it. It is this very way of life that has enabled him to achieve all that he has. His routine helped him to acquire his sense of emotional equilibrium once more.

Sheldon pours the water over his chamomile tea bag and watches the steam swirl upward. He places two cookies on a plate, picks up the mug and returns to the living room. He just places the mug down when his cellphone rings.

He takes it from his pocket and the two cookies slide from the plate to the floor. He almost cannot answer the call. Almost. Perhaps the Sheldon who first moved into this house would not have answered. He knows the Sheldon who lived in Pasadena would not have answered.

He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the blank TV screen. This Sheldon is older. This Sheldon has scars. This Sheldon knows that Nature truly abhors a vacuum. He's never stopped missing her, never stopped loving her. He clears his throat and flips open the phone.

"Sheldon, it's me."

The End


End file.
